Somewhere in Queens
by katilange
Summary: Peter Parker is Spider-Man, Queens' favorite web-slinger; he hangs out with the Avengers, and has even met Gods! Despite this, he still misses Aunt May fiercely, and the pain of losing her never seems to go away. On top of that, what will his newfound family think when they find out his close-kept secret? (rated T for some blood later on, warnings at the beginning of each chapter)
1. Knives and Cars

**A/N: Hello and welcome to a new story! If you've come from my other one **_**In the Dark**_**, don't worry, that will be updated soon (hopefully). If you're new here, hello and welcome! **

**A few notes: this will **_**not **_**be a one-shot story. I have a hard time writing things like that, sorry. Also, the timeline does not follow the movies. I wanted it to take place as if Infinity War didn't happen (so right after Thor:Ragnarok), but also Civil War isn't a thing because Peter hadn't been bit yet. Lastly, I don't think I'll be putting dates/times in this story like I have for my other ones. Unless it gets too confusing, I just decided to leave them out.**

**That should be all, so I hope you enjoy! Please leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews below, I love hearing your thoughts. :)**

**Warnings: descriptions of blood and knives.**

Peter's skull whacked against the ground painfully, sending sparks across his vision. His thin jacket ripped, exposing the skin on his elbows to the rough asphalt. The ratty red and blue mask that covered half of his face threatened to fall off. He scrambled to yank it back on, wasting precious seconds to his opponent.

Peter was bitten a month and a half ago (_right after it happened_), and had only been Spider-Man for three weeks. These had undoubtedly been some of the worst weeks of his life (_nothing had been this bad since-_) and he was just starting to get the hang of the whole super powers thing.

Unfortunately, the spider couldn't have waited until Spring. Cold air blew right through his rag-tag costume, causing goosebumps to prickle his skin. His sixth sense (Spidey sense, he liked to call it) tripped and he rolled to the left. (_Right. I'm fighting someone._) A bony fist landed where his head was. Peter groaned and attempted to hop to his feet, head and shoulders throbbing.

"You're not so powerful, are you?" The man said, raising his arms. Peter tasted blood and wiped his mouth.

"You're not so bad yourself," he replied, shooting a web and smirking. The sticky substance landed in the dude's eyes, and he scrambled to rip it off.

"What-? What is this crap?!"

Taking advantage of the situation, Peter swiped his legs from underneath him. The skinny man fell to the ground with a _thud_. He shot more webs to secure him to the ground.

"Now," he said, leaning over the weasel-like criminal. "Where are your buddies? Did they leave you behind?"

"On the contrary," Weasel said, returning Peter's previous smirk.

His Spidey Sense went crazy, but it was too late. A dark shadow darted from the wall, and silver glinted in the low lighting. Pain exploded in Peter's stomach, pushing him backward onto the rough alley ground. A black handle protruded from his gut, and he assumed it was attached to a knife, which was now embedded in him. (_I should be a detective_) If he weren't in so much agony, he would've laughed at his own joke.

Clutching the handle with one hand, he rose again, spitting blood at their feet. Every twist of his torso sent hot fire up and down his body, but he ignored it and focused on Weasel and Stabby, who were now both on their feet again.

"That wasn't… very nice," he gurgled, trying to sound normal, but failing.

Stabby grabbed the large black duffel bag from the ground and turned to his friend. "Let's get outta here before the fuzz show." Weasel nodded.

"Not s-so fast, guys. I can't… just l-let you leave," Peter managed. He shot a web at the dumpster to their right and pulled with all of the resolve left in him. That was enough. It slammed into them and knocked them to the ground, unconscious. "Sorry, fellas… g-guess you… s-shouldn't have… become c-criminals."

xXx

Iron Man landed with a clang, arms poised to fire at anything that looked suspicious. Loki (_he still could not believe he let Thor talk him into this one_) and Cap flanked him; their weapons were also at the ready. They scanned the situation.

"What do you see?" Nat said over the intercom.

"He beat us to it, yet again," Tony said, sounding slightly impressed. Two guys were webbed to the wall, a note signed by "The Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man". A small duffel lay several feet from them. Spider-Man had stopped another bank robbery, apparently arriving minutes before they had.

Of course, Tony was the only one who knew that "Spider-Man" was none other than 16-year-old Midtown High student Peter Parker. When the masked vigilante first showed up on his radar, he looked in to it. FRIDAY figured it out within minutes; she was a super computer after all. After deciding that the kid could do no harm, he let it be. If a problem arose, they would handle it.

"Wait a second," Loki's cool voice filled the air. "He didn't leave unscathed."

He gestured to the ground. Blood splattered the walls and trickled along the cement. It trailed to the back of the alleyway and then pooled, before disappearing.

"That's not good," Cap stated bluntly.

"_Really_?" Tony said. "I thought it was! Thank you, Sherlock." Steve rolled his eyes as Tony crouched down to inspect the sticky red puddle. "It's fresh. Holmes, you take the streets." He turned to the black-haired man and thought for a moment. "Glinda and I will take the skies. Find the kid, and don't let him bleed out."

Loki looked like he was tasting something sour, but nodded slowly and vanished, reappearing to a building on the left.

Tony blasted off. "FRIDAY, scan for any traces of that blood."

"Trail detected," she replied, highlighting some dark spots on buildings in blue. He followed it.

xXx

Peter staggered onto an apartment building, debating on whether he should pull the knife out. Obviously he couldn't go to school tomorrow like this, but the TV shows always say never to do that… School won his mental battle, and he braced for the hot pain. Grunting he yanked it out in one swift motion and immediately applied pressure to the area.

_That was not fun_, Peter thought, panting heavily. Every breath was agony, but he stumbled forward, determined to make it to-

"Aghh," he moaned, hating that he had to keep steady pressure.

Peter ripped his sleeve and made a bandage, tying it tightly around his middle. "That should do for-"

"Hey you! Freak with the costume!" A voice called. (_You have got to be kidding me_.)

He turned, forcing a calm face. "Listen, guys, I've had a really... long night and I-"

Peter instinctively dodged to the left, sensing something. A crack sounded and a bullet whizzed past him. It exploded against the brick and the culprit stumbled forward from the shadows. It was a man, medium sized and strong-looking. He appeared panicked and jumpy, even with a gun aimed at Spider-Man.

"Hey n-now, I think we… both d-don't want.. To fight," Peter said, lifting a hand to negotiate. The other he kept on his wound, worried the bandage would fail.

"Come on, man," Jumpy said, arms shaking. "My brothers are in jail because of you! W-we had a mantra. 'If one of us gets caught, kill the guy that caught us'. You got them!"

"But you n-never liked that, did... you?" His words were getting slower and he could feel strength slipping from his limbs. "You don't-don't have… to do this… you c-can just… walk away."

Jumpy's arms shook harder. Peter could see him wavering.

Suddenly, Peter fell to his knees, weakness consuming his legs. Jumpy looked surprised, seeming to just notice the blood leaking between Peter's fingers and spilling onto the floor.

"What-"

_Crash._

It all happened at once. There was a flash of bright green light and Peter collapsed. There was banging and shouting and speaking, but he couldn't seem to decipher any of it.

Someone dropped down in front of his face. "Hey, Spider-kid? You alright?"

Their face was blurry and weird, but he still responded, "Yeah, yeah, I'll… be ok.. Is' only… a scratch…"

Everything went black.

xXx

Loki spotted the masked figure the same time Tony did. They both conveined and headed toward the rooftop and just made it when Spider-Man fell to his knees. There was a dude that had a gun raised, but Tony wasn't sure if he would shoot. They landed with a thunk, and Loki sent a stream of energy at the guys back, blasting the gun from his hand. He dropped, hands above his head.

Tony ran over to the kid, who had fallen and was currently bleeding. A lot. He leaned down and looked into the mask's goggles. "Hey, Spider-kid? You Alright?"

He could barely hear the response. "Yeah, yeah, I'll… be ok… is' only… a scratch…"

His head dropped the short fall to the floor.

"Get bruce ready at the Med Bay!" Tony shouted over the comms. "We've got a Spider-Man situation!"

"On it," Natasha replied.

He cradled the kid's head and looked at Loki. "How fast can you get back to the Tower?"

Loki approached and gently took the child from Tony's arms. He kept a hand on the wound, applying enough pressure to slow the blood.

"Faster than you." He was gone in a flash of emerald light.

xXx

"_Peter, I larb you," May smirked, pointing at the dish in front of him. She swished her brown hair behind her shoulder. _

"_Larb you, too," he laughed, rolling his eyes. She had the best sense of humor. May knew how to make him laugh even if he didn't feel like it. _Especially _when he didn't feel like it._

"_Peter…_

_Peter._

Peter!" He dragged his heavy eyelids open a crack. There was a white light that hurt his face, and he tried to cover his aching eyes. Something was moving. Was he moving?

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, closing them again.

"What?" (_That voice. It isn't-_)

His eyes shot open. "Where am I? What-" Peter struggled against something. It was arms. He was struggling against arms. "Who-"

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

He cried out, stomach burning.

"Peter, relax. My name is Bruce Banner. You've been injured, but we're going to the best we can to fix it. Try and lay back."

Peter forced his nerves to settle, and the aching brought him down to something soft. "That's right," he mumbled, tasting metal at the back of his throat. "Stabby… he… stabbed me…" he finished dumbly.

"Did he?" A new voice said sarcastically.

"Lay off the kid, he literally had a knife in his stomach ten minutes ago!" This person sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure why.

"Shut up!" The doctor, Bruce, said. (_Bruce Banner… Why do I know that name?_) "You two stay here, he's got to go into surgery." A door slammed. At least, it sounded like a door slamming. Peter wasn't entirely sure.

"What?" Peter said. (_Surgery? It was just a scratch…_) "Why…" he slurred.

"You've been injured," Dr. Banner repeated. "Just relax." Something pricked his arm. "I'm going to need you to count back from 100 for me, ok?"

For some reason, that didn't process. The last thing he said before succumbing to black once again was, "Aunt May…"

xXx

"-yes, but we couldn't find out where." Voices brought Peter out of his slumber, but he could still only concentrate on a few words.

"Jeez… does anyone know-"

"-that I can think of-"

"-avoided them for-"

"-his Aunt?"

At this, Peter found it in him to moan. "May?"

The voices quieted. Someone made their way over to his bedside (_these senses are really handy sometimes_) and sat down.

"Hello Peter. It's Bruce… I don't know if you remember-?"

"Doctor. Surgery," Peter managed. "Stabbed. Where am I?"

"You're in a Med Bay. Do you think you can open your eyes?" (_Med Bay? Was that a weird way to say hospital?_)

He nodded and slowly lifted his lids. The first thing he saw was Dr. Banner, who had a kind face and a white lab coat on. Something clicked in Peter's mind.

"Banner? Bruce Banner? As in renowned and genius scientist? We learned about you in-"

The next person he saw stopped him short. Iron Man. Tony Stark. Iron Man. "Oh my- you're. You guys are-"

"The Avengers, yes," Tony Stark (_TONY STARK!_) said casually, giving a small smile.

"I'm a big fan of you guys, you have no idea, I mean when you saved-"

And the third person who occupied the room. "Loki. O-of Asgard." He didn't say it unkindly, just a little confused.

"Pleasure," the tall man said dryly. They stared at each other. A beat passed.

Feeling awkward, Peter blurted, "Your magic is really cool! Green is my favorite color. My aunt used to say-" he stopped. "Nevermind."

Loki looked surprised at the mini outburst, but said nothing.

"Peter," Bruce said. "Do you know what happened?"

(_I'm in a room… with the AVENGERS. And Loki, who is cool… but evil? I'm not sure.) _"I got stabbed and- crap! What time is it? I have school and-" he began to sit up.

Dr. Banner pushed him gently back down. "Don't worry about that right now. You're still on pain meds, but we don't want to reopen the cut."

"Pain meds? Those don't usually work on me…"

"Because you're Spider-Man?" Tony adjusted his tinted yellow glasses. "Am I… wrong?"

Peter looked down. "You already know the answer, don't you…" he fiddled with the white hospital blanket. "Are you going to… tell anyone?"

Tony folded his arms. "No. It's not our secret. But, seeing as you were _stabbed_, we couldn't exactly keep the mask on. You understand."

The kid looked up, nodding rapidly. "Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, sir."

"Call me Tony. I'm not that old."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course, sir- er, uh. Tony," Peter said, practically glowing with excitement (_Tony Stark! Iron Man just told me to call him Tony!_). He had the sudden urge to jump up and dance, but the growing pain in his abdomen stopped him.

Mr. Stark came closer and stood at the foot of the bed. "Ok, kid. We have to get some things straight. First of all, where do you live?"

Peter looked away, finding an interest in the wall. "Queens," he said quietly.

"Yeah, but where?"

"My Aunt always told me not to give my address away to strangers."

Tony turned to Bruce. "Did he really just say that to me? Am I hearing things?"

"Don't push it, Tony," Bruce replied in a hushed tone, sensing Peter's discomfort.

"Alright," he consented. "How about family? You got anyone we can call? You mentioned an Aunt…?"

Peter's fist tightened around the sheet. He said nothing.

"May?" Dr. Banner suggested.

"Don't bother," he said, voice shaking. "She's dead."

Loki stirred from the corner, growing uneasy. He didn't exactly _love_ the touchy-feely conversations. Despite this, he felt a pang of understanding, memories of his mother flashed through his head.

"Three months ago," Peter continued. His eyes were filling, but tears didn't fall. "Car crash."

Tony froze. He took off his sunglasses and looked into the kid's eyes.

"I'm sorry." His expression was that of someone who knows.

Peter wiped his eyes and sniffed. "I'm sorry, this is probably really lame." (_I'm crying in front of Tony Stark_)

"It's fine," Bruce said, smiling. "Who do you live with? We can take you back home."

"My Mom's sister, Jane." He had told that lie so many times, it came easily to him (_great, now I'm lying to Tony Stark, too_). "And please don't… I prefer walking."

Dr. Banner looked down at some papers. "I'm going to finish running some tests, but you should be free to go. _Be. Careful_. Don't do anything to aggravate that until I say so. You can come back here next week for the results of the tests." He patted Peter's shoulder, shot him one last stern look and left.

Tony's phone rang. "Just a minute, Pete. Yeah?" A pause. "You have got to be kidding me, Pep. I thought we-. Yeah, yeah. I know." He rubbed his temples. "I'll be there in five. Ok, bye." He hung up and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I have to go to some stupid- nevermind. Glinda."

Loki grimaced at the nickname, but acknowledged Tony with a nod.

"Walk the kid home, will ya? Or, better yet, do the magic-zappy thingy." He wiggled his fingers. "It'll be much faster." Tony rushed to the door. "Consider this a redemption! Don't screw it up, or," he stopped at the door frame, eyeing Loki. "Or I _will _kill you. Later!" And he was gone. Peter laughed, but it sounded pained.

Slowly, he stood, leaning against the bed for initial support. Upon realizing that he was in a large Scooby Doo t-shirt with matching pants, his ears went red.

"Hah… uh… do I need to tell you where I live?"

"Ideally." Loki observed the boy. He didn't look like the other superheroes that Thor had forced him to interact with. He wasn't graceful like Natasha, or ridiculously large like Mr. America, or a rage-monster like Banner. In fact, he reminded Loki of himself. He could tell Peter was fit, but he was relatively lean and had a clever twinkle in his eye. It wasn't mischief, like his own, that was for sure… Loki decided he'd find more about it later.

"Are you going to… zap us?"

"I actually can't, I don't know the city very well. I suppose you'll have to guide me?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess." He shrugged (_this is going to be so awkward_).

"Shall we, then, Spider Child?" Loki peered at him from calculating green eyes.

Peter trusted him, weirdly. His Spidey Senses usually did a good job at warning him about people… and this time. Nothing. Other than the fact that he was taught Loki was the bad guy, there was nothing telling him not to trust the God of Mischief.

"Uh… you can call me Peter. I was Peter before I was Spider-Man. And yes… uh, I guess we shall."

**A/N: I hope you understood that everything in parentheses and italics are Peter's thoughts (unless it's implied to be another character's thoughts). Anyway, I hope you liked it :)**

**See you next time,**

**-katilange**


	2. Glinda and Underoos

**A/N: I know, I know. To all my **_**In the Dark**_ **people, I know I said it would be updated soon… sorry! I've had a bit of a hard time with the chapter, but I'm working hard! It will be completed sometime in the next week.**

**Also, it has come to my attention that a lot of people use a car crash as a way to kill May. Sorry! It just seemed to fit best with my story. Any apologies if you are tired of this particular trope.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy today's chapter (in which we learn more about our favorite Spider-Boy), and make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews below!**

(_This is so awkward_) Peter had to move slowly, but he did his best to lead Loki around. They had done the "magic-zappy thingy" into West Queens, seeing as the Tower was pretty far. He could tell that how slow they were going was bothering the man, but he didn't say anything about it.

"And that's Mr. Delmar's. I used to go there everyday after school for sandwiches. I like it squished down flat, and they always make fun of me for it. In Italian. '_Odia il pane_!'" Peter imitated. "But luckily, May taught me a little bit of Italian when I was younger. My uncle Ben always said that-" Peter fiddled with his sleeve (_shoot, I'm rambling_). "Heh. Sorry. You probably don't care..."

Loki eyed him without turning his head. "It's alright, Spider-Child. Thor talks my ear off all the time." He sighed with annoyance.

"Really… uh, call me Peter. And, it can't be so bad having a sibling… right?"

He was impressed with how much Peter looked like a puppy. His eyes were large and sad, and if he didn't look so sincere, Loki would say he was faking. After all, he _had_ played the same trick on his brother a few times.

"Not always, I suppose. Although, he did throw me at a number of-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Peter stopped and stared at him. "He _threw_ you? Like, _at_ something?"

The taller man offered a tiny smile. "Yes. At _someone_, actually. On multiple occasions."

Peter laughed. "That's awesome!" (_Oh no. It's quiet. He's not responding! What do I say?_) "So… aren't you, and I don't mean to be offensive, a bad guy?"

Loki sighed and crossed his arms. "The New York thing was… complicated. As for normally, it varies from moment to moment."

"So like, on a scale from one…" he held his hands close together. "One being like… spit in your coffee or something, to ten," he spread his arms wide apart. "Ten being, I don't know… kicking puppies, what are you at right now?"

Loki had the strange urge to laugh. He hadn't thought about it like that before. "I would say a three."

"Cool," Peter smiled. "Let me know if it gets above a six. Oh," he stopped in front of a small, ramshackle brick structure that looked to be about four stories high. To add to the affect, a rat scuttled across the metal railing of the stairs. "This is my building. You don't have to walk me up to the apartment, it's not that far."

"Very well, then. Farewell… Peter." He was gone.

Peter chuckled faintly. "That is _so_ cool."

He made his way around the back of the building and began to crawl up the side. When he arrived on the roof, Peter grabbed the only blanket he owned and threw it around his shoulders. In the last couple months, the secluded space had become his home.

A dirty looking mattress rested under a makeshift roof that he had built from some scrap metal he found. Peter had received an old, baby blue suitcase from his father that sat next to the bed. It, and a small backpack, carried everything he owned. Small computer parts were scattered on the bed (_man, I really need to clean up around here_). The entire set-up was tucked between a big cement structure that he assumed held mechanical tools and the lip of the building. It wasn't much, but Peter didn't mind it. At least, not anymore.

It had been rough the first week after May died. She didn't have any living family members left, so he had to sell most of the apartment to provide a humble funeral. Ned and MJ's families, plus a few friends and coworkers, were the only ones besides Peter to attend. He didn't care about that, though. She wouldn't have wanted anyone else.

He remembered sitting with a tired looking woman about where he was going to live.

"_Are you aware of any living relatives?" She placed his file on top of a stack of others. Seeing them all sent a pang of guilt through him (_why should they care about me? I'm fine… some other kids need this more).

"_Uh, no. Her uncle passed away after my last birthday." He shifted nervously._

"_Oh? How old are you?" _

"_I- I just turned 18," he lied _(I'm wasting her time with my story. This is the best way I can help people deserving of her).

"_Do you have a birth certificate? Proof you can legally live on your own?" The woman raised an eyebrow suspiciously._

"_I'm sure May kept them somewhere… I, uh… haven't gone through her stuff yet…"_

_She cringed with sympathy. "Listen, kid, you can bring me that tomorrow, ok?" _

"_Ok," he agreed _(that gives me enough time to forge anything I need to forge).

Peter escaped from his memory at the realization that he was almost out of toothpaste. He was living on the things that were already in the apartment when he was forced to leave... The remaining money from selling most of their belongings he was using to pay for a tiny rental garage for anything he couldn't take with him. There was enough to pay for it until he finished school (_luckily they let me stay to finish Junior year… but after this…_), and he figured he could find a job that would provide more.

For now, he was working as a busboy at a… humble chinese restaurant downtown. That only gave Peter enough to ensure people didn't question his "Aunt Jane" thing.

"Home sweet home," he muttered, grabbing his toothbrush and heading to the water spout in the opposite corner. He was lucky enough to find a tiny spigot that came out at the top of the building. It was probably previously used for a garden, before the place was trashed. The only thing that grew up there anymore was weeds.

It wasn't all bad. There was a gas station next door where he went to the bathroom and took showers. And yeah, some days he would be so hungry that he could hardly swing around the city, and it got a little cold sometimes. But other than that, Peter couldn't complain. Not everyone was as fortunate as him.

After brushing his teeth, he washed his face with cold water and went to bed. It wasn't too cold tonight, and it wasn't nearly as freezing as the first couple nights he spent like this. It seemed his body had adapted.

Peter forced his stiff fingers to send a text to his group chat (_hmm… I wonder when the next phone bill is_).

_1:00am (Peter Parker): _is there math due tomorrow ?

_1:00am (Michelle Jones): _no.

_1:01am (Ned Leeds)_: What are you guys doing up so late?

_1:01am (Michelle Jones)_: says u

_1:01am (Peter Parker)_: speaking of which im going to bed. ttyl

_1:01am (Ned Leeds): _See you tomorrow!

_1:01am (Michelle Jones): _gn losers

xXx

A sleek black car with tinted windows rolled up beside Peter. "So, you gonna tell me why you lied, Parker?" Mr. Stark, of all people, leaned out of the window. Today, his glasses were tinted red.

Peter tried to ignore the ice that was rushing through his veins and the panic that was stuck in the back of his throat. "W-what do you mean?"

Tony leaned farther out into the open air. "Your injury," he indicated to Peter's side. "You said you were going to come in yesterday to have it checked out."

Relief replaced the ice inside of him. "Oh. Yeah, I had work and couldn't make it."

"You're sixteen, don't you have a phone?"

"It's, uh… broken," he shrugged (_that was not one of my finer excuses. He's gonna see right through me_).

"Mmhm…" He couldn't see Mr. Stark's expression through his sunglasses. "You free?"

"Yeah, I think so." (_For once, they don't need me at the restaurant.)_

"Get in. We're gonna pay a visit to Brucie." The window slid up, and Peter stood on the sidewalk for a second, dumbfounded. He shook off the initial confusion and hurried into the expensive Audi. The interior was just as elegant and glossy as the outside, and Peter couldn't help but feel like he didn't belong.

Tony scooted into the other seat and faced him. "Peanut?" He said, offering a small bag.

"No thanks," Peter replied. He hated accepting things from others… especially food. He could fend for himself… he had been for weeks.

"Alright, kid. Happy!" The man driving turned around, waiting. "Take us to the Tower."

"Yeah, yeah," the guy, Happy, said. He looked grouchy, not like his name would suggest. "Wouldn't hurt you to say please once in a while," he muttered. If Peter wasn't enhanced, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

"So, Pete. I hear you're some kind of genius." Tony stopped fiddling with his phone and took off his sunglasses. His dark brown eyes were curious.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I- did some digging, but that's not the point." (_did some digging? What does that mean?_) "The _point_ is… I could use someone like you at the Tower. An… intern, of sorts."

"Really? You're serious?"

"As the plague," he said, holding up two fingers solemnly.

"Well, I have work and academic decathlon practice everyday after school except Fridays, and-"

"Fridays it is, then! Happy can pick you up from school-"

"Hey!" At the mention of this, the driver turned and glared at them. "I am _not_ a chauffeur!"

"Calm down," Mr. Stark waved a hand. "It's good to try new things. Anway, we can send you home at… 6? That work, Underoos?"

"Underoos? What does-"

"Perfect! I'll see you Friday."

xXx

"Your wound has completely closed! Has it been bothering you at all?" Dr. Banner disposed of the unused bandages in a trash can.

"Not recently," Peter said. He looked off, distracted by the hum of a nearby machine.

"Tony, this is faster than Steve's ever healed," Bruce whispered to Mr. Stark. "The kid's got _huge_ potential. Don't screw this one up."

"No pressure," Tony replied wryly, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry, big guy. I've got this." Bruce gave him a look. "Ehh… probably."

He walked over and plopped onto the bench next to Peter. "So, Spider-Kid. How do you feel about some bonding time? Some one-on-one with New York's favorite Avenger."

"Debatable," someone said from the doorway.

It was Loki. And Thor (_Thor! God of Thunder! Oh my gosh! Do I bow? Isn't he a king?_), waving from behind him. Peter's couldn't seem to close his mouth; it was gaping open, like a fish.

"Ah," Tony said, standing and spreading his arms. "It's our favorite princes, back from the Tundras."

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. "One of us is technically a King, and should be addressed as-"

"Brother," Thor interrupted cheerily. "No matter. On to business," The muscular man clapped Tony on the shoulder, and then saw Peter. "Stark! I didn't know you had a son! Tell me, when did this happen?" He winked.

"Cool it, Point Break, he's not mine. This is Peter Parker, he's interning for me."

"Good to meet you, Peter," Thor said, smiling.

"Y-you… too," the kid replied, trying to recover from the initial shock.

Loki shook his head, exasperated. "We didn't go to Northern Russia for nothing, brother."

"Of course! Stark, we-"

"Come on now, let's not bore the kid with business," Tony interrupted (_dang, I was hoping to hear some Avengers stuff_). "How about we move this elsewhere? Glinda, you stay with Peter. We wouldn't want him to get bored. And besides, this will only take a few minutes."

"Glinda?" Thor's expression was that of a mischievous sibling. He was going to use that one later.

Loki smirked. "I'll be sure to keep him entertained, _Anthony_."

Tony didn't seem to be affected, but it was hard to tell seeing as he was already halfway out the door.

"If you do anything stupid, I'll kill you!" Mr. Stark called as the door closed.

"You couldn't if you tried," muttered the black-haired man. He remembered Peter and turned swiftly. "5," he commented, then sat down in a chair across from the teen (_5? Is that like… taking someone's lunch money?_).

Loki seemed frustrated, so Peter began to chatter about school. While it was rather annoying at first, it became kind of comforting. At last, he was in a conversation where nothing was required of him. It was nice. Occasionally, he added in little stories or thoughts, but he mostly let Peter talk. Loki decided that he didn't mind Peter's company… perhaps they would even talk again.

When Tony and Thor returned, Loki got up, nodded to Peter and said, "2." Then, he was gone (_gosh... this guy disappears often!_).

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! AS A NOTE: I did NOT (DID NOT) come up with the "Loki-rate-your-evil" thing. I first saw it in a story called Spider and Snake by Karmitara, but the og idea was a tumblr post. Their username is: Artemxmendacium**

**REVIEWS:**

**Belbelanne: Why, thank you! We shall see, my friend. We shall see ;)**

**JesseWells: Aww, thank you! I appreciate your review :D**

**xSapphirexRosesxFanx: Sorry, I guess he didn't this chapter. But soon! Probably :)**

**See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	3. Suits and Bullies

**A/N: Hi! Sorry this chapter has been a beast to write, I ended up with like three potential endings. Ugh. But, here it is. **

**Also, I would like to ask you guys for requests for dialogue or small scenes with Peter and Loki, or Peter with the Avengers! Please feel free to PM me with any ideas, I'll do what I can. KEEP IN MIND: this story will continue with the plot, and if the idea doesn't fit in, I can't put it in, but I would love to hear from you all!**

**Enjoy today's chapter (hopefully)!**

"_They claim he was 'under control'. Are you kidding me? Under control or not, do they have any idea how many people died in that invasion? And now, him and that Thunder God waltz in here and expect us to believe that he's different?" A woman said, frustrated. She looked around her at the grocery check-out line, trying to find someone else that felt the same. Mostly, people in New York didn't care._

"_Our children aren't safe as long as he's here," a man finally responded. "My niece was killed that day; it nearly wrecked my sister. I can't let that happen to my kid." He clenched a fist, and his biceps flexed. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep my girl safe. That monster needs to be stopped." The woman handed him a flyer, nodding in sympathy. It read, '_Avengers: Heroes or Criminals?'

_Under his breath, he whispered, "Even if I have to kill every superhero in this city to get to him."_

xXx

Peter was planning on landing smoothly, but the combination of hunger, cold, and exhaustion made it more of a crash. Fortunately, he crashed onto his mattress, so it didn't hurt too bad. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to release the tension from his aching back and shoulders (_at this point, I can't even imagine getting up to brush my teeth_). Regardless of the chilly air, the second his eyes were closed, he was asleep.

That night, he dreamed in memories.

_It was his first day as an Intern to Iron Man, and Tony wasn't even there yet. FRIDAY informed him that Mr. Stark was in a meeting and would be there shortly, so he was doing homework on the floor. _

_After a few minutes, Peter jumped to the sound of laughing. He and the robot next to him looked up toward the door at the noise. Embarrassment flooded his system, and he dropped his paintbrush. _

"_Mr. Stark! I uh-"_

"_You were teaching Dum-E to paint?" Tony said, amused. _

"_Well, I- he uh. He just seemed kind of lonely over there, and I needed to finish this art project… a-and I didn't think you would be back for a couple of minutes… so I just… sorry," Peter finished, ears red. _

"_No, no, it's ok! I enjoyed that. I really did."_

_Peter finally chuckled along with him, and then they got to work._

_Later that night, they were sitting and designing stealth suits for the team, when the older man interrupted, "Hey, kid, what's your take on Nanotech?" He spun around in his chair, tossing something back and forth in his hands._

_Peter's eyes lit up. "You mean molecular nanotechnology? As in __precisely manipulating atoms and molecules for fabrication of macroscale products?" He blushed and looked down. "Erm, sorry."_

"_Never apologize for knowing, Pete," Tony said, and tossed a small object at him. Peter caught it with ease and examined it. _

"_What is this?" As he spoke, a red and gold glove materialized around his fist. It looked exactly like the Iron Man gauntlet, but smaller. It fit him perfectly. "You're telling me," he said in fascination. "That you figured it out? Bottom-up molecular nanotechnology?" _

_Mr. Stark opened his arms in a "What can I say?" gesture and smirked. "That is what I am telling _

_you, yes."_

_Peter's mouth hung open. "Do you know the applications of this? I mean, __surface science__, organic chemistry, molecular biology, semiconductor physics, energy storage, microfabrication, molecular engineering, to name a few! You… you could save lives," his eyes were alight with wonder. "I mean, more than you already do, of course."_

"_And that's what I need you for," Tony said, and casually stood. He walked over to Peter and tapped on the metal glove. It dissolved into his hand. "You're a genius, kid. Whether you agree or disagree, it's true. I mean, what can you say, Tony Stark is your idol." He winked. "I want you to help me develop the tech further. Well? You in?" _

"_Am I- Am I in? Of course! You have no idea how excited-" he stopped again. "Uh, sure. That sounds cool."_

_Tony laughed. "Alright, then. Let's get to work."_

_The dream blurred and skipped ahead._

_It was his second week as an intern, and Tony was in another meeting. So, Peter was doing what he did last time: homework. A few minutes into it found him pacing back and forth, scrawling in his notebook. He muttered to himself occasionally, trying to understand the complex problems that Mr. Benson had given the class. Peter heard footsteps, but didn't look up._

"_What the crap!"_

_Peter started at his mentor's voice, looking up for trouble. "What? What's wrong?" _

_His notebook slipped from his hands and fell, hitting Mr. Stark in the face._

_The mechanic grabbed it and smiled. "You're on the ceiling, Peter."_

xXx

Peter rolled up his blanket and shoved it under the large piece of cardboard. He always hid his stuff before he left in the morning, just in case someone came up here. While it _was_ difficult to hide the mattress and suitcase, he managed to make it nearly invisible.

Once he was satisfied, Peter grabbed his backpack and turned to hop off the roof (_It looks cloudy… I hope it doesn't snow today_). He was stopped, running smack dab into someone (_crap. CRAP! Who's up here? Did they see?_). Whoever they were, they were wearing a smooth matte black suit, with green cuff links. Slowly, Peter tilted his head up and met the even stare of Loki, God of Mischief (_shoot shoot shoot. Please tell me he didn't see that_).

"Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Loki. I… I didn't see you there," he said cheerily, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart.

"Yes, well, obviously," Loki sniffed and stepped back. He gazed around the small rooftop, mild confusion written on his face. "What on Earth are you doing up here?" (_calm down, Peter. He didn't see. He would have said something about it if he saw. I think._)

"I-I, uh. I was, um… swinging around last night, and I dropped my backpack on the roof… on the way inside. I was getting it for… school… today," he finished, forcing his hands not to twitch (_there's no way he'll buy it! I'm screwed. Imagine when Mr. Stark finds out that Spider-Man, a superhero, is homeless! That's so pathetic… I'll never be part of the team_).

"I was under the impression that Midgardians didn't attend school on Saturday," Loki's bright green eyes were suspicious and questioning.

"Oh, not normally. But, I had an extra Decathlon practice today." This part was true. It felt kind of good to not lie about his day for once. "My girlfriend MJ is the captain, and she would kill me if I was late."

He seemed to accept that. "Ah, yes. You should be going, then."

"Wait, what did you need?"

Loki rolled his eyes (_he usually does that when he's talking about Mr. Stark_). "Stark sent me to give you this. He seems to think I'm some… errand boy." He held out a sleek silver case.

Peter grabbed it gently; he wasn't sure if it was fragile (_what would Mr. Stark want me to have?_). He knelt on the ground and undid the latches. Loki leaned over his shoulder, curious. They both stood there, frozen, as Peter looked at it.

"Are you… going to open it?" The man asked, eyebrow quirked.

The kid laughed, albeit nervously, and responded, "Yeah… yeah. I just- this feels important."

He took a deep breath and lifted the lid. It was almost infuriating how slowly he did it.

"No. Way."

Peter gaped at the red and blue suit in awe. He reached out and lightly touched the eyes, not daring to breathe (_this is a dream. This has to be a dream_).

"I-is… Is this… mine?"

A note fluttered to the ground, having previously been tucked under a fold in the smooth fabric.

"'An Upgrade. T.S.,'" Loki read aloud. "An upgrade from what?"

"Well, my suit. After... a few weeks ago, I tried to sew my old one back together. It didn't look great. But now," Peter raised it reverently from the box and held it up in front of him. "This is awesome!"

Loki couldn't help but smile at the kid's unbridled enthusiasm for a suit. He quickly caught himself before Peter noticed, and forced his expression back to normal.

"I suppose it is," he paused. "_Awesome_."

"Listen, I really have to-" Peter turned to respond, but Loki had disappeared. "He _has _to teach me that!"

xXx

It was not a good day. Despite having an amazing weekend testing out his new suit, Monday slammed into him with the force of a train. Peter had slept through his alarm, missed his train, and didn't even get the chance to have breakfast at the school. What's worse, he was exhausted from patrol last night, cold from the layer of frost he woke up to, and very, very hungry. Lunch was the only thing he looked forward to that day (_well, that and my friends_).

"Come on Parker, pick it up, pick it up!" Mr. Ammons clapped his large hands (_I guess in my efforts to look normal, I ended up doing worse_). He jogged a little faster, not even breaking a sweat. Since the spider, first hour gym class became his easiest period of the day. In fact, it was kind of nice… sort of relaxing (_except for when coach yells at us_).

"Alright, bring it in!"

The class gathered in front of Mr. Ammons. He crossed his arms in front of him, muscles flexing. "Ok, who can tell me the four kinds of tissue?" Their teacher always ended his class with a discussion about health and the human body. Peter had never had a gym teacher like him.

Mr. Ammons was huge, 6'4" or 6'5", and beefy. Everywhere you could have a muscle, he had one. He also sported big tattoos up and down his arms, depicting images of black and white flowers, dates, and faces. As if that wasn't intimidating enough, the guy had served several years in the Marines before an injury forced him home.

Now he stood, glaring at them and expecting an answer. "Thompson! Four types of tissue, go!"

Flash looked up and threw him an arrogant smirk. "Come on Coach, what is this, biology?"

A few students snickered, but most were too afraid of Mr. Ammons to laugh. The teacher narrowed his piercing blue eyes.

"Don't give me crap. Four types of tissue." His voice was steely.

The teen rolled his eyes. "Whatever man, if I wanted a test I'd-"

"Shut up," Coach interrupted. "Parker? Would you like to save him the embarrassment?"

Peter looked up from his shoes. "Uh, epithelial, connective, muscular, and nervous, sir," he answered quickly, earning a stink eye from Flash. From beside him, MJ smiled in approval.

"Correct! Consider coming prepared to my class next time, Thompson." He launched into a discussion of tissue, deciding not to pick on any more students today.

Peter had just finished changing into his clothes when Flash shoved him. The locker room was mostly empty now; only a few people were lingering.

"What's with you?" The black-haired teen asked angrily.

"It's not my fault I pay attention," Peter responded (_I am not in the mood to deal with this right now_). Some of the other guys chuckled, but most of them ignored the pair. This was part of the norm.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Peter said, walking away. He had other classes to get to today, and this would only delay him. Also, MJ was waiting outside the door so they could walk to Math together. He smiled thinking about it.

"Don't turn away from me, Parker," Flash said from behind him, and Peter felt himself being pushed forward. He stumbled a little, but tried to ignore it. This pretty much happened every day. "You're a coward." The other boy added under his breath, "Apple doesn't fall far…"

These were the times he wished he didn't have heightened senses.

Peter's entire body stilled. He turned slowly, fingers twitching. Fire burned in his stomach. "What did you just say?"

Flash sneered, delighted to get a reaction. "I said, _apple doesn't fall far_." His voice was nasty, filling the room.

It all transpired at once. Suddenly, Peter's hands were grabbing Flash's collar and pinning him against the wall. He dragged him up so that his expensive sneakers were a few inches from the ground.

"You can hit me all you want, Flash," Peter spat, tone low and threatening. "But don't _ever_ insult my parents again. _They were braver than you'll ever be_." His uncle's words rang through his mind: _With great power, comes great responsibility. _And with that, as quickly as it had begun, the fire burned out, and he dropped the other teen. "S-sorry," he mumbled, and then left, leaving a stuttering Flash in his wake.

As he stumbled away, Peter had the weird urge to talk to Loki. For some reason, he felt like the God might understand (_who am I kidding. He won't want to talk to me_). Peter tried to fight the tears that were pricking his eyes; Flash had dug up some unpleasant memories.

_I miss you guys. So much._

**A/N: Argh. This one was hard to finish. Also, I promise all of this stuff matters to the story! It wasn't just filler (well, kind of)!**

**REVIEWS:**

**poohbear123: thanks, haha. I don't think this chapter was as funny, but I'm working on it :D**

**Ori: Yay! I'm glad!**

**AmaltheaLuchiaAizen: It appears your foretellings are accurate ;)**

**Belbelanne: Three cheers for Loki!**

**wolfimus prime: Thank you so much! I hope I didn't disappoint!**

**justHereToEnjoyTheStories: Thank you!**

**orangiethefox: here it is, I hope it didn't suck!**

**xSapphirexRosesxFanx: We'll get into that more in the coming chapters, but it has to do with Peter's abilities. **

**See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	4. Snowflakes and Pictures

**A/N: Ok, first things first: Thank you all for 100+ follows and 2,500+ views! I'm so excited and I can't stop smiling. I didn't expect such a positive reaction, and I'm so glad you all like it! I hope this chapter doesn't let you down. Thank you!**

**Anyways, make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews below! Enjoy the chapter!**

**Warnings: Mentions of illegal activities.**

The first thing Peter noticed was how freezing it was. The second thing was that a layer of snow (_Actual snow!_) was covering part of his thin blanket. Most of his face and torso were fine because of the makeshift cardboard roof above his head. And the third thing was how sleepy he felt, despite how freaking cold it was (_wait, I'm not shivering. Why am I not shivering?_). Peter knew that he had school today, but he couldn't seem to drag his sluggish body off of the tiny mattress.

He just sat and watched the snow fall lazily around him.

It was the ringing of his cell phone that finally jolted him out of his haze. His fingers moved at a comically slow pace, but he was able to answer.

"H-hello?"

"Yeah, kid, um… Where are you?" (_Mr. Stark! My Internship!_)

"I'm com'n. B'there inna min't," he spoke, words slurred.

"Are you ok, Pete? What's wrong? Where are you?"

(_So many questions_) "Yeah, m'fine. Jus… tired is'all," Peter responded, rubbing his face in an attempt to get blood flowing again. "See ya soon, Misser Stark."

"Kid, are you sure you're-"

Peter hung up. He rolled over onto his side and shook the snow off of his toes; everything was in aggravating slow motion (_why can't I function? This is so frustrating_). He managed to grab his mask and web slingers, but was having more trouble in the getting up department.

He shot a web on the side of the cement block beside him and yanked himself up. Blood rushed to his feet and he couldn't see for a moment. Once his vision was clear, Peter swung off the roof in what he guessed was the general direction of the Tower.

xXx

Tony tapped his foot and looked at his watch. Peter usually only took five minutes to get here… it had been 20. He was starting to get worried.

Just as he was about to dial the kid's phone number, Peter stumbled into the lab. He was wearing a ripped jacket and gray sweatpants… and his Spider-Man mask, which Tony figured was an odd fashion choice. He leaned onto the side of the doorframe and waved casually.

"Sorry m'late."

"Kid. The mask." Tony gestured to his own face.

Peter ripped it off, looking slightly disheveled, and threw it aside. Then, he moved to walk but his legs moved too slow for his center of gravity, and he fell.

Tony shot forward and grabbed him before he made contact with the cement, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Holy crap, Peter, you're freezing! What happened?"

"It's… cold," he said, shrugging half-heartedly.

The mechanic bit back a sarcastic remark and helped him upstairs to the living room. He flicked on the gas fireplace and set the child in front of it. Peter laid down, immediately moving closer to the flames (_it's so warm_) and curling into a ball.

Tony bustled around. "FRI? Where does Pepper keep those spare blankets?"

"In the basket by the ottoman, boss."

He grabbed them and threw the heaviest ones haphazardly on Peter. "There you go, bud. Hungry?"

At this point, Peter was too out of it to even argue. He just nodded, snuggling deeper into the burrito of warmth (_this feels so nice_). He must have dozed off because suddenly Mr. Stark was leaning in front of him with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a PB&J.

"This is about the best I can do."

Peter shifted into a sitting position and gratefully accepted the food (_it's been a while since someone has made me something_). He inhaled the sandwich, but was forced to slow down on the hot chocolate.

"Now. Why in the… _heck_ were you so cold? What were you doing?"

"I-I dunno. I guess I was just outside too long… and then I felt super weird. Like I couldn't move or do anything but lay down and watch the snow fall… so that's what I did." He licked his chapped lips. Obviously, this wasn't the _whole_ truth, but it wasn't technically a lie either (_lying by omission is still lying_). "I didn't even realize how much time had passed until you called me."

Tony rubbed his head. "That's… You know what? I don't know what that is. Strange? Abnormal? All words I would use."

"Sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn't mean-"

"No no… it's fine. Let's just figure it out together, kay?"

"Excuse me, boss, but may I offer an opinion?" FRIDAY's chipper voice rang through the living room.

"Yeah, sure," he responded. It couldn't hurt.

"We may want to consider that Peter was bitten by a spider and thus has gained some traits of the species. Spiders are known to be able to withstand the cold by becoming less active or dormant. In fact, some can even survive in temperatures as low as -5 degrees Celsius or 23 degrees Fahrenheit. When the temperatures reach that low, I predict that the part of Peter that contains human instinct would begin normal homeostasis-maintaining negative feedback loops, such as shivering or constriction of blood vessels, but before then he remains as inactive as possible to conserve energy. I recommend staying in temperatures less than 0 degrees Celsius or 32 degrees Fahrenheit for less than three hours at a time, and installing specialized heating systems in Mr. Parker's suit."

"That was… enlightening. Thanks, FRI." Tony pondered for a moment, then nodded and looked at Peter. "Make a note of that kid: no Spider-People outside without a specially-modified supersuit."

Peter laughed. "I'll try to remember that." He was starting to gain feeling in his limbs back; the fire-hot-chocolate-fuzzy-blanket combo was working.

"Well, stay put for a minute until you're warm." Tony stood and walked to the door. "I'll be back in ten, kid. Gonna get a render started on those mods... Hang in there." He shot finger guns and strolled out of the room in the direction of the lab. Peter didn't see him breathe a sigh of relief just outside the door. _Thank goodness the kid's alright_.

"What on _earth_ are you doing?"

Peter turned his head to see Loki, standing in the doorway and glaring at the fire. His curly black hair was tied into a small ponytail, and he was wearing his usual green leather getup.

"Oh, I uh… apparently getting bitten by a spider also means that I am unable to function when I'm cold," he chuckled. "Thus, the cocoon of blankets."

"That explains why it's so unbearably hot in here," Loki smirked. He looked down at his fingertips, which were tinted slightly blue.

"Oh! I can change it-" Peter started to get up, but the other man waved him down.

"No, no. I'll manage; I've survived much worse. You, however, need to function."

Loki came over and sat on the couch, looking uncomfortable (_should I say something?_).

"So, uh, Mr. Loki… not to be rude but, what are you doing here? I thought you and Thor were on a mission somewhere."

"Ah. Right. Yes, well, Thor and I handled it… faster than expected."

There was a pause in their conversation as Peter pondered this. "Mr. Loki? Do you think I could come with you and Thor on a mission sometime?"

Loki almost cringed. "Heavens no, child. We normally go far too north for you; obviously your body couldn't handle it."

"But… Mr. Stark is making modifications to my suit so it's warmer! Come on, _please_…."

Again the God was amazed at Peter's puppy-dog eyes. How does one look so _innocent_?

"I feel it's not entirely up to me."

As if on cue, Tony walked back in. He narrowed his eyes at Loki on the couch, but didn't really seem to care that he was there.

"Mr. Stark! We were just talking and... I want to go on a mission with Thor and Loki?" The end of Peter's sentence lifted up like a question.

His mouth actually dropped open. "Absolutely not."

"But-"

"Peter, those missions are insanely dangerous! You've been a hero for less than 6 months. I won't allow it," he said, crossing his arms.

"Why do they go if they're so dangerous?" The kid didn't say it with sass, but genuine curiosity. He gestured to Loki. "Won't they get hurt?"

"Listen... Point Break and Glinda are gods. Literally. You're a kid; you could get hurt."

"I'm not a child, Mr. Stark. I'm 17." Peter scrunched his eyebrows.

"You're 17? I thought you were 16." Tony was certain FRIDAY told him 16.

He looked away. "Yeah… my school records haven't been updated in a while..." (_crap. I forgot that Aunt May hadn't done that… and then…_)

Loki looked between the two of them, feeling incredibly awkward, and then clapped his hands. Him and Peter had been talking a lot in the past few weeks, and Peter recognized this as a sign that he wanted to leave. "Well. It has been lovely, but since this is settled, I suppose I should be going."

There was a small pop, and they were alone (_I was right_).

"Listen, kid." Tony moved to sit in front of Peter, who was avoiding eye contact. "It's not that I don't think you could do it… but… those missions." He shook his head. "It's serious, bud. You could get... hurt." He shook his head. " What would I tell your Aunt?" (_I forgot. He thinks I live with my "mom's sister"_)

"Ok, I-I guess that makes sense, Mr. Stark… but, maybe one day?"

"Alright, Pete. If you're ready, I'll think about it." Tony smirked. "Good talk. Now, back to work."

xXx

_If you're ready, I'll think about it. _Peter couldn't deny that those words sparked something in him. Something like excitement. If he could prove that he was ready to fight like an Avenger, then they would let him go on missions. Maybe he could even meet Black Widow! He hopped from building to building on his nightly patrol, scanning the streets.

Peter stopped on a tall lamppost, observing two hooded men trade a black duffel in the shadows of an alleyway.

"That _cannot_ be legal," he said to himself. Assuming it was a drug deal, he trailed the larger guy, and bugged the other one, all silently and without them noticing. The big guy with the duffel hopped into a beige van, slamming the door and then taking off.

He followed the van at a safe distance until the tall buildings and noisy streets traded for small suburbs with barking dogs. Occasionally, Peter accidentally knocked over a trash can, picking it up and whispering a quick, "Sorry!"

Eventually the van pulled into a large abandoned hospital (_that is _beyond _creepy_), parking under the emergency room's awning. The guy and a few others stepped out, looked around them, then entered the unnaturally terrifying building in a single file line.

Peter chose the more inventive route, crawling through a window and sticking to the ceiling. He followed the sound of their footsteps and the beams of their flashlights until they reached a large, frankly disgusting room that had empty hospital beds with yellowing sheets. Rat droppings scattered the floor, and he was pretty sure he saw the culprits scuttling away from the light (_this is so gross_).

If only he could say that was the nastiest place he'd been in.

The squad of men walked up to a muscular guy who was facing the window, observing the stars. One man chucked the duffel at his feet.

"We got it," he growled. "Now pay up."

"First," Mr. Muscular said. "I have to examine the goods." His voice was impatient, but commanded authority (_I recognize it somehow. Think, Peter, Think. Where do you know him from?_).

He turned away from the night sky, but frustratingly, the shadows covered his features (_adjust, super-sensitive eyes! Adjust!_). After affirming that "the goods" were what he asked for, Mr. Muscular snatched the bag and pulled a bulky wad from his pocket. He threw it at them. Growly caught it, examining the cash.

Peter's eyes were beginning to focus. "Karen," he whispered (_I'll never get used to having an AI in the suit. Thank you, Mr. Stark_). "Scan their faces if you can."

"On it, Peter," she replied softly. After a moment, she said, "The three are identified as Marcus Benno, Terrence Johnson, and Jon Benn." A few mugshots came into view.

"And the other guy?"

"Kary Ammons," Karen said.

It took everything in him not to gasp. "Mr. Ammons? As in, my gym teacher?"

"It appears so."

He watched with horrified fascination as the men left, and his teacher moved to a different room ('_Hi, my name is Peter Parker. I'm a Junior at Midtown High, a web slinging superhuman, and my PE teacher deals drugs.' When does it end?_). Slowly, he tailed, trying to rid the shock from his system.

Mr. Ammons arrived in an old operating room that had been remodeled to be some sort of base camp. A few computers rested on an old card table, and a bulletin board with pictures, dates, and newspapers stood in the corner. The man shoved the duffel bag in a case, locked it, and then left the room.

Peter counted to 30 and then swung down in front of the bulletin board.

"Oh my gosh," he said, bringing a hand to his masked face. The board was filled with pictures of all the Avengers and their identities. Each was marked with a label; Iron Man, Tony Stark. Captain America, Steve Rogers. Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. The list went on and on. Peter was shocked to see a news clipping of himself; the label read: **Spider-Man, ?**

He took a stumbling step back, bumping against the card table. Desperate to leave, he scrambled toward the door, stopped by a certain muscular figure.

"I really wish you hadn't seen that."

**A/N: I apologize for the cliffhanger! The next chapter will be up as soon as possible ;)**

**REVIEWS:**

**Beachgirl25: Yeah, I was hoping that would make sense as I wrote it. :D**

**orangiethefox: Teehee, we'll have to find out ;)**

**Belbelanne: No, but something like that will come into play later. **

**xXxOtAkU-444xXx: Thanks so much!**

**BeccaSco: Thank you! You're too sweet!**

**Ori: Wow thank you! And don't worry, I won't; there are more things to come!**

**See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	5. Guns and Lies

**A/N: Heh. Sorry. There's a whole lot going on in my life right now, but I bring to you: a new chapter! Please enjoy it, I think I finally gave you all what you were waiting for (hehe)! P.S I wasn't sure how this chapter came across, so please leave your thoughts!**

**Warnings: Mentions of guns, organized crime, and a (VERY) brief mention of a car crash.**

"I really wish you hadn't seen that."

Peter's Spider-sense continued to go haywire, his entire body jerking backwards by instinct. Everything after that happened very quickly.

Mr. Ammons pulled a gun from his belt and shot, only missing Peter because of his abilities. Papers flew around them in a janky tornado, obstructing the older man's aim a little bit. They continued this fatal tango until the gun clicked and the large man looked down at it, not very phased. He put the empty object away calmly and folded his arms. The hero was stuck to the ceiling, there from avoiding the shots.

"Well. It's safe to say I jumped the gun." He actually laughed at his own joke. (_What the crap is going on here? Is this some weird fever dream?_) "Let's talk about this, Spider-Man. We don't really have to fight... Have a seat." He waved to the old foldable chairs that were set up by the rusty card table.

"Karen, activate interrogation mode," Peter whispered, trying not to let Mr. Ammons hear him (_This way he won't recognize my voice)_. "I'm not here to talk. Why do you have all these pictures of the Avengers? What are you planning?" He dropped down from the ceiling gently, feet not even making a sound on the dirty floor.

Ammons quirked an eyebrow at his strange voice, but didn't mention it. "You won't rat me out, right?"  
Peter was shocked. "What kind of question is that? I work with Tony Stark. One phone call, and this operation is done."

"Let me rephrase that. You _won't _rat me out." He smirked and pulled his gun back out, sliding a new cartridge into it. Aiming it behind Peter's shoulder, he fired, hitting the picture of Mr. Stark directly on his mentor's chest.

Peter flinched. He was lucky for his mask, because without it, he would not have been able to hide the shock and fear from his face.

"What?" If it weren't for the interrogation mode, his voice would have come out squeaky.

"I have people everywhere, little bug," his teacher spat, finally showing some malice. "_Everywhere_. Let me ask you this, do you care about your friend Iron Man. Is he mentoring you… maybe even a deranged father figure?" His voice was snide; he was clearing mocking. "I don't want to kill you, Spider-Man. At least, not yet." The subtle threat sent chills down Peter's spine. "But at the snap of my fingers, I could take out Tony Stark and all of his little friends in an instant."

"Why should I keep quiet if you're going to kill us anyway?"

That raised eyebrow dropped. "Finally, the right question. While taking out Stark so early would be… disappointing, it's all means to an end. I'd do what I have to do. And you must want time to try? To try and... figure me out, what have you."

Unfortunately he was right. If Peter could figure this whole thing out, which he planned on doing, he could save Mr. Stark and the others. But if he failed...

The teacher quirked one corner of his mouth up at how still Spider-Man was. "This isn't about how badly I want you monkeys in costumes dead. This is about tasting sweet vengeance for everything you've done." Peter couldn't think of anything he, or any of the others, had done. They were only trying to help people… "Killing all of you now would be too easy… too painless. I'm going to make it hurt."

He hadn't realized his gym teacher was a sadistic sociopath, but hey. Stuff happens. "It's not going to change anything. You won't ever rest," Peter said, trying to talk some sense into this madman.

"I'm not looking for rest, I'm looking for justice." His blue eyes flashed. "Now, run along, little Spider. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. And don't forget. I'm _everywhere._"

Peter hesitantly shot a web out of the window (even though he was anxious to leave), slapping a listening device on the sill. As he swung away, pit in his stomach and hands clenched, he only hoped that Ammons wouldn't notice it.

xXx

"_Peter!" May grabbed him in a fierce hug. "You did amazing! I'm so proud of you." She patted his head, curls bouncing. "And Ben would be, too. Oh, if he could see you right now…"_

_He hugged her back, burying his face into her shoulder. "What do you think he would say?" Peter's words were slightly muffled by her gray sweater._

_May pulled away briefly to look into his eyes. "You know what? I think he would mess up your hair," she demonstrated. "And… loosen your tie… and say-" she lowered her voice. "'You must be adopted, because that isn't from me!'"_

_He could see his uncle doing that… in fact, he had seen his uncle do that. They were at one of his Science Fairs, and Ben had ruffled his hair, and loosened his tie, and said those things. Then, May had shot him a look that said, 'Speak for yourself', and they had laughed. It seemed like so long ago…_

_Peter hugged May again, pulling away after a second. "Love you, May. I'm going to go talk to Ned and MJ. Meet you back here in ten?"_

_He was already walking away when she responded with a wink and, "Of course, anything for my genius nephew. Love you too, baby."_

_Peter was lucky. He really was… because at least his last words to her weren't angry or spiteful. At least he got to tell her he loved her. At least he didn't forget._

_Hit and run. Hit and run. Hit and run. Hitandrunhitandrunhitandrunhitandrunhitandrunhitandrun-_

"Hit and run."

He shot up in bed (if it could be called that), gasping in the crisp air. The echo of his words rang around him in the dark night. Feeling a sharp ache in his chest he went back down to the small mattress. Cold tears were streaming down his cheeks, paving little rivers under his eyes.

Peter tried not to think about May, and he hated himself for it. Every time he did, it made his heart hurt from the agony of losing her so unfairly. Dreams like this were usually the only instances where he allowed the pain to creep through to the surface.

He wondered now if she could see him. If she was disappointed in him… it would make sense. He was living on a roof, barely able to stay alive, and unable to protect his newfound family from a psycho gym teacher. If she was watching, she would be so upset. Peter couldn't help but feel like he was failing in every aspect.

He let the sobs rack his body for a while, until the steady throbbing of his head lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

xXx

"Okay, admittedly, this doesn't add up." Tony leaned over the keyboard, addressing Bruce from behind him. The Doctor was working on some genetic tests, trying to improve treatments for Steve (_and Peter now, too_).

His friend blinked up at him. "What?"

"Well, I promised not to be nosy, but you know me." He took off his large red sunglasses and shoved them in his pocket, shrugging. "Anyways, here," he leaned forward again, "On Peter's records from the Social Worker, the kid's 18. But, look at this, his school records say he's 16. The kid himself told us he was 17. So, my question is, how old is he? This also means he either lied to a social worker, the school, or to us, and I'm not sure which I'm most mad at. _And _that's not all!"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "It isn't?"

"No! I looked up the records with his social worker, Mary Osten, and he claimed that he had no living relatives _and _that he was old enough to live on his own! Which he isn't! And remember his Aunt Jane? Yeah, doesn't exist."

Tony waved his arms around in mild frustration. Bruce absorbed this, then just nodded thoughtfully. "You should ask him."

"Well, yeah. I plan on it… in fact, he's scheduled to come over today, so we'll have a nice heart-to-heart chat."

"Don't be too hard on him, ok?" His friend said after observing the mechanic's tone. "He obviously did it for a reason."

"I know, I know. I like him… he's a good kid. I just- can't understand _why_."

Bruce smiled. Tony would never admit this, at least he didn't think so, but Bruce knew that he cared about Peter, in his own way. It would all work out. Probably.

xXx

"So, uh, kid. Peter." Tony awkwardly changed the subject of the conversation from science. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, which was about the only thing he did when he was nervous. "Can we talk about something, bud?"

"Sure, Mr. Stark… What do you need?" (_Mr. Stark is never nervous. What is he going to say?_) Peter's body responded to his mentor's energy with foot tapping and hand wiggling, despite his best efforts to remain still.

"Where do you live?"

The question was so unexpected that Peter was taken aback for a moment. His initial shock faded, giving way to cold panic (_he knows. He knows_). He tried to formulate a lie in his head, but as he spent more time with Mr. Stark, it was getting harder and harder to fib. Words floated through his mind, "_...a deranged father figure_."

"Queens," came his automatic and choppy response.

"Yeah, but… where in Queens?" (_just… start with the truth, and lie if you have to._)

"A-a little apartment building on 41st."

The mechanic's face remained still and unreadable. Peter was unable to tell where exactly he was going with this. "With your Aunt."

After his dream last night, Peter couldn't help but flinch. (_His Aunt. Not May_.) Everyone thought he lived with his Aunt Jane… he didn't even remember how he came up with that one…

"Y-yeah," he sniffed, feeling hotness behind his eyes (_oh no, I will not cry in front of Mr. Stark. Not like this_). "M-my Aunt…"

The familiar sick guilt settled in his stomach. He hated this.

"Your Aunt Jane." Peter nodded in confirmation. "Who also happens to not exist." Tony stood then, looking away with his arms crossed. The kid froze, the cold panic seeping from his stomach into his veins (_crap_).

The statement hung in the air for an uncomfortably long amount of time, but it also could've been a second. Peter wasn't sure.

"Now, according to Mary Osten, you're 18. With no living relatives. You know, I could have sworn you were a Junior this year." Mr. Stark would still not look at him. He wasn't sure if he wanted his mentor to look at him, because his face would surely be disappointed. He couldn't handle that right now.

"And you told us you were 17, but the school thinks you're 16." Tony finally locked eyes with him, but the emotion was not one Peter expected. It was… concern? This was the look May gave him when he came home from school with a black eye, or ran a temperature. This was the look of… of… of a parent. Of a father. He didn't know how he felt about that.

"Give it to me straight, kiddo, please. What is going on?"

"I-I," he stuttered, not sure how to approach this. "I don't… I mean, I-I can't…"

Tony waited, firm but concerned.

"When M-May died, I had to sell almost everything," Peter relented, choking a little on his Aunt's name. "A-and after the funeral, there wasn't much money left… Not much for me to use, at least. W-we didn't really have that much to begin with…" he trailed off, then refocused. "I used some of it to buy a storage unit downtown, but there wasn't enough to keep rent on the apartment. I-I didn't want to go to an orphanage… I wanted to stay here, with my friends. Right after the funeral was when the spider bit me."

The older man had to physically restrain himself from stopping the story to offer sympathies and apologies. He felt terrible... and had the foreign urge to pull Peter close. This was just one blow after another… couldn't the poor kid catch a break?

"Then I met with that social worker lady… she had so many stacks on her desks of kids who needed her attention w-way more than I did. I… I forged a birth certificate in the local library so she thought I was 18. A-and then I just lived wherever for a while. T-told everyone I was with my Aunt Jane… they all bought it, after a couple weeks ago. I asked one of my old neighbors to… to act as my Aunt for 50 bucks for Parent-Teacher Conference. I really do live on 41st, though. On an apartment building…"

On _an apartment building? What is that supposed to mean? How on God's Green Earth did no one figure this out until now? _He kept his mouth shut, deciding to ask questions later.

It felt so good to tell the truth that Peter didn't stop until the story was over. An immediate combination of relief and regret flooded his system when he finished. He looked down, terrified of what Mr. Stark thought of him now. He would be angry… take away the suit, throw him out, the whole nine yards.

"Jeez, kid-"

"I'm so sorry! I didn't want this. It all just happened and-and…" he sniffed again and was furious to discover that tears were running down his face. "And I know those things are wrong… but I couldn't help but think of those kids who… who had _nothing_." Peter wiped at his eyes in a failed attempt to stop the stream. "I understand.. If-if… you don't want me coming around anymore…"

His ramble was stopped by Mr. Stark wrapping him in a tight hug. All hesitance was forgotten as he returned the grasp. Peter held on to his suit jacket and cried for a while longer, enjoying the contact. It was familiar and comforting… something he hadn't felt in a long time (_not since-_).

"Peter," Mr. Stark whispered after the cries had slowed to heavy breathing. "This is a hot mess, kid, not gonna lie. But I'll fix it ok? Just let me handle this one." He had no idea how Tony would handle this. The whole thing didn't seem fixable. "Why don't you spend the night here tonight, alright? I'll have someone bring in some spare clothes or something."

Too tired to argue, Peter just nodded and allowed Mr. Stark to lead him to a spare bedroom upstairs. He collapsed on the bed and was asleep in seconds.

xXx

"He's been _living_ here?" Loki turned up his nose in a mix of disgust and horror. Beside him, Tony rubbed his face in his hands and swore. The dirty roof, tiny "living space", and motheaten mattress and blanket had the pair shocked. Once Loki had found out that Peter was homeless, he'd been outraged, but this was a whole new level.

Tony was more genuinely disappointed in himself than he had been in a while, and that was saying something. How could a teenager be living on a roof and calling himself the lucky one? How could he not complain? But the question that bothered him the most was: _How could I be living in a penthouse while the kid works at a deadbeat job just to feed himself? I'm a billionaire for crying out loud!_

The odd overprotective feeling that had come over him today since he talked with Peter kicked in with a passion, causing a swirl of conflicting emotions in his head. Anger, sadness, self-loathe, those were familiar, but fear was there, too. Fear for the kid. _His kid._

Loki was so angry that his hands were refusing to unclench, and he didn't know why. Why did he care so much about where the child lived? It was none of his business, right? If that were true, he wouldn't feel this surge of… _feelings._ It was unwelcome.

"I just… can't believe no one knew," Tony said, trying to keep an even expression. Thank goodness for sunglasses at night, because otherwise, he feared the God would see right through him.

Loki scowled. "This building is an offensive place."

"Now that is something we can agree on, Glinda." The rat droppings and bug carcasses were a testament to that.

"Well," Tony finally said. "Let's get his stuff, I guess. Whatever there is… Oh. My-"

"What is it?" The other man said, looking annoyed as he bent over to grab a blue suitcase.

"That day he was cold… he was sleeping outside!" He swore again, frustrated. "That was one of the coldest nights this winter."

"Valhalla help us," Loki muttered, also collecting a bunch of computer parts and a backpack. "What are we going to do with this child?"

**A/N: This one took me a while to get right, so let me know your thoughts!**

**REVIEWS:**

**Beachgirl25: Ah! I hope you are satisfied with this chapter. And there's more to come!**

**xSapphirexRosesxFanx: Sorry, that happened a little differently lol :)**

**Belbelanne: Here you go! Hope that answers a little bit!**

**orangiethefox: Thank you, you're too nice! And I'm glad you liked it. **

**Akenji: Sorry the update didn't exactly come soon, haha. But thank you so much!**

**See you next time,**

**-katilange :D**


	6. Secrets and Discoveries

**A/N: Hi all! Sorry it's taken me so long to update, and I hope you all are safe and healthy! I won't take too much of your time, but just keep in mind updates will probably be a little farther apart. Thanks for all your support :)**

**Make sure to leave any comments/suggestions in the reviews.**

**No warnings this week!**

Peter woke to the abrupt sensation that he was falling. His heart thudded against this ribcage, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what he was even dreaming about. Unfortunately, it slipped from his brain, as most dreams did.

He looked around, confused once again to the pleasant sensation of warmth in his fingers and toes. Peter hadn't woken up to a comfortable temperature since summer; it was nice. _Ok, where am I again? … right. Mr. Stark. The conversation._

He groaned and fell back onto the pillow of the guest bed. _I can't believe I told him all of that. Everything's ruined now… plus, the thing with Mr. Ammons. What am I going to do about all of this?_

FRIDAY's chipper voice pulled him away from his thoughts. "Good morning, Peter. It's currently 10am. Weather in New York is overcast and in the low teens, farenheit. Can I get anything for you?"

_Thank goodness it's Saturday; I don't think I would've gotten up any earlier. _"No, thanks, Ms. Friday."

"I have a message from the Boss, if you'd like me to read it."

Peter nodded, then wondered if she could actually see him. "Uh, yes."

Mr. Stark's voice filled the room. "Hey, kid. Me and Glinda brought over your stuff; it's by the door. I have a meeting today, but I'll be back around lunch. Do us both a favor and don't go out until I get back, but feel free to explore the tower. Ask Fri if you need anything, and try not to eat all of my frozen waffles."

Peter snorted, climbing out of the bed to get ready and stretch his limbs (_that's the nicest mattress I've ever slept on in my life_). He stripped his clothes from the previous day, taking a shower and relishing in the hot water. He realized happily that he could spend as long as he wanted cleaning off.

After a half hour, he changed into a pair of sweatpants and a gray tee that someone had left him on the dresser. Peter wandered out of the guest room and into the kitchen of the fancy penthouse (_everything's so nice here_).

He walked over to the fridge, but decided against looking inside (_I don't want to impose on Mr. Stark's things_).

"Not hungry?" A smooth voice called from behind him (_crap_).

Peter turned slowly, forcing a casual smile onto his face. "Loki! How are you?"

The man was dressed in black, as usual, but he had opted for a more casual outfit, with skinny jeans and a fitted sweater. An open book was in his hand, long fingers bookmarking a page. Peter read the title: _Macbeth._

"I'm well, and you?" Loki dared, raising an eyebrow. His expression was clear: the lies were over.

Peter looked down and fiddled with the strings of his sweatpants. "Listen, I'm sorry. It really isn't that big of a deal."

"You were living on a roof," his friend deadpanned.

"Point taken," he mumbled.

Loki huffed and moved to the kitchen, opening the fridge and rummaging around. He pulled out a gallon of milk and set it on the counter.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, finally looking up.

"Just hush, and sit down," he waved to the stool, continuing with his task. After a few minutes, Loki set a bowl of Froot Loops down in front of the teenager. "Eat."

"But-"

Peter was silenced with a firm stare (_it's easier to just eat the cereal at this point_). He slowly spooned the food into his mouth, trying not to squirm under Loki's gaze. When he finished the bowl, his friend grabbed it and refilled it.

"You really don't-"

"Peter." Loki's tone was serious (_he's mad_). "You and I both know how much you need to eat."

He sighed, relenting. "Alright."

There was a pause as he started to eat again.

"Are you mad at me?" Peter asked, mouth full.

Inwardly, Loki groaned. There were the puppy-dog eyes again. "No. Just mad you didn't care to enlighten us on your situation."

(_And how was I supposed to bring that up? 'Hi, how are you today? Oh, and I'm homeless'_). "That's not fair." Peter was mad at how his voice came out, slightly whiny. "That sort of thing doesn't come into conversation naturally."

The older man was surprised at his spark of defensiveness. "Oh? A simple truth would have done the trick." (_So he's mad I lied to him and Mr. Stark_).

"I'm sorry I lied, ok? I just… didn't want to be a burden to anyone." He stared at his Froot Loops, swirling them around with his spoon.

"Look at me, Peter." Loki's voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Their eyes met. "You don't have to worry about that for me, or for Stark. I'm a god, he's a billionaire." He stumbled over his words a little. "Don't feel like a burden to people that care for you, child. Now, eat."

And just like that, quiet, snarky Loki was back. He brought his book up to his face and started to read.

"Loki?"

He peeked over the top of his book. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Ah. Yes. Uh, you're welcome." He walked away quickly, returning to his spot on the couch.

Peter smiled to himself and finished his cereal. He sobered, remembering the conversation he had with Mr. Ammons.

"_I have people everywhere, little bug."_

"Hey… hey Loki?" (_I think I could tell him without Ammons finding out… right?)_

"Yes?"

Peter realized something suddenly, interrupting his train of thought. "Crap!"

His friend stood, looking mildly alarmed. "What is it, child?"

"MJ's gonna kill me!"

xXx

"You're… you're not mad?"

They sat together in a small park near the tower, observing a few kids playing together in the large green field. A dog bounded among them, tail wagging, as the parents watched from a picnic blanket. It was all very peaceful, which was the opposite of what Peter was feeling.

His girlfriend sighed, running a hand through the mess of curls on her head. "No… yes? I don't know. I-I get why you did it. I'm just... Well, you lied, Peter."

He looked down at his hands, mind drifting to his identity as Spider-Man (_that secret is different. I need to keep her safe_). "I know. I'm sorry. I won't make excuses… you can be mad at me. It was wrong…"

MJ smiled sadly, tilting his head back up to meet her gaze. Peter was shocked as this was surprisingly affectionate for her. Since they had dated, she'd shown her more caring side, but her normal demeanor hadn't changed, and he was grateful for that. He liked her just as she was.

"Peter. This isn't something I'll hold against you, ok? We all make mistakes. But, no more secrets." He nodded furiously. "Good. Now, let's move it dork, we've got places to be."

He smiled (_there she is_).

Ned reacted in about the same way MJ did when Peter called him. He was upset at first, but slowly understood as they talked. Peter was beginning to realize how lucky he was to have them (_another reason to protect them from… Spider-Man_).

_Yes, _he decided, thinking of his crazy gym teacher and the mess he was in. _I have to protect them_.

xXx

Chunky footsteps echoed in the small room. "Spider-Man, Spider-Man…" Ammons tilted his head at the board of heroes. Several of the papers fluttered as a cool wind filtered through the window. He leaned over the old card table to write in his notebook, scribbling down several notes. "Super strength and agility… the webs seemed to be man-made… and his suit was high-tech. Probably Stark."

The sticky web on the table caught his eye. "Who are you, Spider-Man?" Returning to the notebook, Ammons wrote his notes on height. "He had to have been around 5'10'. Skinny, but strong."

He paused, thinking. "He obviously used something to modify his voice, but why?" The large man began to write again. "One of two most likely options: he has a recognizable voice, or he knows me. So, he's either an extra lucky famous person, like Stark, or someone around me…"

He hummed and tapped the pen against his chin, taking a mental census of everyone he knew. "It couldn't be any of the buddies I used to work with, they're all gym bugs," Ammons muttered to himself. "It couldn't be anyone who knew Marine, I haven't met her guy friends… hmm, who wouldn't want me to know?"

A beeping sound interrupted his thoughts. His computer for work sat balanced on a stack of health and anatomy books. A thought struck him, bringing a smile to his wide face. "Ah. A student. And one that somehow knows Iron Man."

He sat down, satisfied. "All I have to do know is find a clever little spider hiding among my students."

xXx

"Attention all superhuman teenagers!" Mr. Stark's familiar voice entered almost as flamboyantly as he did. He strutted into the room, expensive suit, sunglasses, and all. "Or, should I say superhuman teenager, because last time I checked, there's only one of you."

Despite how nervous he was, Peter laughed. "Yep. I'm here."

Tony threw a sleek silver suitcase onto the couch and walked to where the kid was sitting at the counter. Loki had once again forced him to eat, and a bowl of noodles rested half-eaten in front of him. The god had since left, disappearing with Thor on a mission.

"Ok, bud, we gotta talk," Mr. Stark said, removing his red sunglasses and leaning onto the marble countertop. Peter braced himself for bad news, already trying to think of somewhere he could stay tonight (_I'm in for it now_).

"Good news, I called my lawyer and got all the legal crap smoothed out. So, we can buy a new bedspread for that room if you want, and all of your stuff is already here. Obviously, the room isn't perfect, but I think we can make it work; I mean, I can have furniture ordered and delivered by tomorrow-"

Words were going too fast for Peter to comprehend. He interrupted, "Wait, wait, wait. W-what? What stuff? What furniture?"

Mr. Stark stared at him. "Well, you're not going back to a roof, kid, I hate to break it to you. I figured you'd be fine here." The man smiled, almost nervously. "Sound good to you?"

Peter's mouth hung open. "H-here? Really?"

"Of course, kiddo. Now, finish your noodles, we have a room to decorate." He swept away down the hall, in the direction of the guest room (_I guess it's _my _room?_).

Disbelief and wonder filled his mind (_if you had gone back in time and told me that I would be living with Tony Stark, I would have laughed)_. This was the first time since May that he'd had a home. It felt nice…

Peter didn't ever want that feeling to leave.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the long wait, and I hope you all stay safe and healthy!**

**REVIEWS:**

**xXxOtAkU-444xXx: Thank you so much!**

**Belbelanne: Teehee ;) I'm so glad you liked it and thanks for your sweet review!**

**xSapphirexRosesxFanx: Very true!**

**halen deardeuff: Thank you! I hope I didn't disappoint!**

**See you next time!**

**-katilange**


	7. Family and Fear

**A/N: Hi again! First of all: I'M SO SORRY. It's just been a hard year, haha. Anyways, I feel like I'm finally out of my writing slump, so chapters should come sooner.**

**Also, a little disclaimer: I tried to do research on the legal stuff included in my story, but it didn't really make sense to me. So I just kind of skipped over as it wasn't essential to the story. If you have any tips or suggestions though, feel free to review or PM me. :D**

**I hope you enjoy and as always, be sure to leave comments/suggestions in the reviews below!**

**WARNINGS: brief mentions of violence and weapons.**

Peter sat in the room (_my room?_) and stared at the new things around him. Earlier this morning, people had been moving in and out, carrying furniture, bags, boxes, and just about everything else. As a force of habit, he had counted the number of movers with blue shirts. Peter liked to count things whenever the world felt like it was moving too fast.

Coming back to the present, he blinked hard, wondering when this dream would end. Suddenly, it seemed he had a home. With a bed, and a dresser, and his own bathroom (_my own bathroom!)_, and even a TV! It was all so new to him. Even when he was with May, they lived humbly.

Walking to the window, Peter couldn't contain his smile. The view from the room (_my room_) appeared to show the entire city, although he doubted that was actually true. He squinted trying to make out familiar landmarks scattered among various buildings. For the first time in a while, the pressure on his chest lessened.

"Enjoying the view?"

Loki stood in the door frame, dressed in all black (_per usual_). He smirked and walked to Peter's side, joining his friend in staring out at New York City. The kid smiled back, happy that he was on good terms with Loki again.

"Yeah." He sighed, returning to the tall buildings of his hometown. "This is so crazy."

"Oh?" The man peered at him from his side. Peter's large brown eyes were thoughtful and sincere.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not bad! It's just… different now. I haven't really had anyone for… for what feels like forever. I didn't think I would after… after May."

His mind once again shoved the memory of Mr. Ammons into his thoughts (_if I'm not careful… this could all disappear)_. He shook his head, wincing a bit.

The god watched him carefully. "You can tell me if anything's troubling you, child."

Peter's lips tightened into a thin line, and his fingers fiddled nervously with the cuffs of his shirt (_Ammons said he was always listening… what can I do?_).

Making a decision, he walked to the desk and wrote a note, returning to Loki's side quickly.

"No, nothing's bothering me. Here's my phone number, in case you need anything." (_He said he was watching me._)

The tall man cupped his hand around the paper and read it: _We need to talk somewhere that no one will hear. _Understanding the situation quickly, Loki replied, "I don't have a phone, but I will keep this just in case."

Loki folded it and tucked it in his pocket. "Peter, would you like me to show you some magic?"

"Yeah!" The teenager forced his voice to shake from excitement rather than anxiety. "I've always wondered about that!"

In a flash of emerald, they were gone.

Peter stumbled forward, suddenly dizzy from the strange and unfamiliar way of travel. He was often swinging around the city, which wasn't exactly stable, but this was different. It sort of felt like what he imagined being a tube of toothpaste was like.

Once he regained balance, Peter looked around. They were a small apartment, with modern furniture and appliances. It was an open concept, and he could see the kitchen and the living room from where he stood. A large bookshelf took up an entire wall, filled with plays (_this must be Loki's apartment_). He couldn't see what was down the hall, but it didn't matter. He didn't want to invade.

"We won't be heard here. No one knows about this place, even my brother. Now," he paused to take a seat on the black leather couch. "Who exactly is listening?"

Peter felt the tightness in his chest return. His eyes scanned the room rapidly, as if Ammons was going to pop out with his gun and do who knows what.

Loki sensed from the boy's body language that something was really wrong. "It's ok, Peter. No one is here. You may speak freely."

The teenager couldn't bring himself to sit down, the ball of nervous energy that was sinking in his stomach preventing him from being still. He paced back and forth, considering how to tell this story.

He sighed and began, "It was a few nights ago… maybe a week? I can't remember. Anyways, I was patrolling downtown a bit, since I thought there would be more action. I saw these big guys trading a duffle bag," Peter continued, making large gestures as he spoke. "And I thought, 'there's no way that's _not_ crime' since they were doing it in a dark alley. You know, nothing good ever happens in a dark alley. And, I usually avoid them- dark alleys, I mean- but today I just couldn't help it because-"

"Peter." Loki could tell he was very nervous. Peter had a tendency to ramble, but it was not usually this bad. He had begun to speak very fast, another warning sign. "Focus, child."

The kid blinked. "Right. Focus. Okay, so these dudes got into this, like, sketchy van." He snapped his fingers. "Like the one the Wet Bandits use in Home Alone! You know, big and suspicious. Well, I guess this van didn't have any words on the side. And it was a different color… and it wasn't even that big. It was more like a medium sized van. Probably could fit-"

"Child. Take a breath."

Peter did as he was told, trying to force his brain to get to the point. The problem was, he didn't really want to get to the point. It was a terrible point.

"Ok. So, I followed the van and it went to this super creepy abandoned hospital. Like Horror movie material. Definitely not a normal building. I mean, compared to the-" He stopped when Loki gave him a look. "Right. Focus... I followed the dudes and, to make a long story short, I ended up in this even creepier room with a big bulletin board. It had a lot of pictures on it…"

When Peter shuddered and trailed off, the god felt a bit of concern. "Pictures of what?"

Their eyes met, and for the first time since the story started, Peter stopped moving. Loki could see fear in the kid's face, and it unsettled him deeply.

"Of… of everyone. Saying he was going to bring you down… Mr. Stark, Mr. Captain America, Mr. Thor, Ms. Widow… you… they were all there." The god stood up, masking his shock and allowing Peter to continue. "He had some pictures of Spider-Man, but he didn't know who I was… but the thing is… I knew him."

Loki's green eyes were alight. "What? Who is it?"

"I-It's my gym teacher. Mr. Ammons."

Silence followed his statement and let it hang in the air. For a moment, it seemed like everything was still.

"What? He's at your school? Peter, why didn't you tell us earlier? We can handle this right-"

"No!" Agitated, Peter shook his head. "You can't. He threatened me, telling me he'd kill everyone. He said that he was always watching. You can't, Loki, please. You have to just act like I never told you, alright? If he finds out…"

The older man closed the distance between them and put an urgent hand on the kid's shoulder. "Peter, this is a significant issue, I can't just act like you never told me! You shouldn't handle this alone."

"Loki," Peter pleaded, brown eyes wide. "You have to let me. I told you so that you could be on the lookout… for yourself and for the others. I can't protect everyone."

His friend let out a strained breath and clenched his hand into a fist. "I'll do what I can do. But, child, I can't let you go to school with him there."

Peter smiled painfully. "It would be more suspicious if I didn't go. He can't find out who I am, Loki. That would put MJ and Ned in danger."

Loki was consistently amazed at the selflessness of this child. He sighed and considered the circumstances for a moment.

"You have to let me do something, Peter. You can't expect me to sit by while you're in danger."

This was an oddly sentimental statement from Loki, but the teen was too high-strung to really notice.

"But-"

"Trust me. I'll find a way."

xXx

When Loki said he'd find a way, this was not the way Peter expected. It was his first day back to school since the events of the weekend, and he had woken up nervous. The idea of going to gym class and pretending that nothing had happened scared him. The truth was, he wasn't sure if he would be able to act that well. The image of Mr. Ammons threatening him and his loved ones was lodged in his brain.

Peter headed to the kitchen to grab an apple for breakfast, still uncomfortable with eating a lot Mr. Stark's food. When he arrived, someone he didn't recognize was sitting at the counter. He looked to be about the same age, with shaggy black hair that fell flat and framed his face (_he looks so familiar… where do I know him from?_).

He was so surprised at the new presence that he just stood there for a second. Snapping back to the present, Peter squinted at the other boy. "Who are you? What are you-"

The realization hit him with a jolt. "Loki?"

The boy cringed and turned to face Peter fully. Sighing, he nodded. "I thought this appearance would be subtle enough."

His voice was different, a little higher and less of the characteristic fluidity. Loki sounded like a teenager.

"Woah… you look… woah." It was a bit like having deja vu. "I almost didn't recognize you! How did you… and why?"

Loki stood, a bit awkwardly, and took another breath. "I decided to try and disguise myself as a way to help you at school."

Peter's brain jolted into motion. "Wait. You're going to High School with me?"

"Yes, I suppose so." The other boy was wearing black skinny jeans and a black turtleneck, with a dark gray blazer on top. He had even accessorized with silver necklaces, shaped like norse symbols Peter didn't recognize. To top it off, he held a black school bag in one hand.

He looked down at his own outfit, a science tee with faded blue jeans, and then back at Loki. "Don't you think you're… overdressed? It's just school."

His friend looked shocked briefly, but shook his head. "That's not the point. I'm only going to help you."

"Exactly. So why did you dress like this was fashion week?"

"I always dress well, Peter. It's not my fault Midgardians have low standards," he replied, slightly defensive.

Peter laughed. "Alright, alright. Moving away from the fashion, how did you just enroll? And how do you look like this? It's amazing!"

He leaned closer, examining the now younger face. Squirming under the gaze, Loki turned away and waved his hand. "I pulled a few strings. As far as _how_, I am well trained in the art of illusion; this was nothing."

"Awesome! Ok, so what do I call you at school? It obviously can't be Loki."

"I have enrolled as Hjalmar Fredrikson." When seeing Peter's face, he explained, "I must not stray from my heritage. But, you may call me Mar."

"What does the name mean?" (_it's actually a really cool name, just a bit hard to pronounce._)

"Fighter with a helmet."

**REVIEWS:**

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